Hushed Willows come to me, my sweetest friend.

Their pack mate's stuttering drew Larkspur's eyes back to her face. Her lips pressed together as she wondered why she talked that way. Was she simply nervous? Or was there something wrong with her mouth? Not sure if it would be polite to ask—and quite frankly lacking the nerve anyway—Spur kept her pondering to herself, until Harlyn's playful actions scattered the pup's thoughts entirely.

She held still, watching as Silas sprang toward the branch to engage their mother. She shot a shy glance at Grace, then decided she felt comfortable enough to bound to join her brother, their shoulders knocking together as she, too, snapped her teeth at the flailing bough.